Vanilla Dress
by alijoz97
Summary: A kind-of sequel to Blue Shirt. James encountering Lily wearing dresses. Multi-shot. Full of fluff and angst and a naughty word. Eek. Jily. J/L.


**So this is a sort-of sequel to Blue Shirt. Same style, but not at all the same content. You can totally read them interchangeably-_Vanilla Dress_ is just in the POV of James in a Lily-like scenario, versus Blue Shirt being Lily's POV with a James-like scenario.**

**You'll get it once you read it, I promise.**

**Aaaaand there is one naughty word, like mentioned above. Be wary, fellow reader. You have been warned.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

When the tiny body slammed into him, James knew there was going to be trouble.

He had been on his way up to his dorm, rummaging through his bag as he walked, looking desperately for the note his mum had sent earlier that week. If he didn't respond by tonight, then there'd be no way—no _bleeding_ way—he'd be able to come home for Christmas hols. His mum had personally guaranteed—grabbed him by his shoulders, really, saying that if he didn't respond to her letters, he'd be stuck at Hogwarts cleaning bed pans the Muggle way for Madame Pomfery.

A fate worse than death for James, really.

Blinded by his worry of losing the key to Christmas cookies and crackers and celebratory burning sessions with Sirius over old homework, he allowed himself to be run into by a girl wearing a pink, frilly dress. The girl, apparently, hadn't seen him. He hadn't seen her.

"_Oomf_!" he grunted as he hit the ground, his bag spilling everywhere. The girl landed on top of him, all bony elbows and hard forehead. For a sinking moment, James could only see pink. He worried he was going mad.

"Merlin, I am _so_ sorry!" the girl gasped, scrambling to her feet in a rush. She wielded her wand and began magicking his bag and all of the articles so they'd appear inside as if nothing had happened. It was rather impressive, but James was currently nursing a sore forehead to notice. The girl in question, however, kept rambling as if he was listening, "—_really_, really sorry—didn't see you—"

"Watch where you're going next time, yeah?" he muttered, stumbling to his feet and stooping for the bag. It wasn't until he straightened that he realized the bird in question was none other than Lily Evans. And—Merlin, _what_ was she wearing?

"Evans, you're wearing a dress." As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced at his tone. Last week he had blown up her cauldron. And the week before, old Snivellus had taken a beating from him because he had been upset about Quidditch. And now, here he was badgering her about her clothing choice. Fantastic.

She rolled her eyes, inspecting her own elbow for any bruising. "Barely," she countered. Apparently free of marks, she lifted the side of the dress so he could see her trousers underneath. "It was for a dare," she said conspiratorially, leaning in slightly. "But it was too big, so..." she trailed off, shrugging slightly as she adjusted one of the ginormous shoulder pads protruding from the fabric. They were still rather close, though, and James could see an adorable spray of freckles across her nose.

"It clashes horribly with your hair," he observed. Lily flushed, causing the dress to stand out even more. Considering himself a complete and utter tosser, James swore.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, tugging on her hair self-consciously.

"I didn't mean—" he began, cutting himself off with a huff. "Listen, you're free to wear dresses if you want. I'm only saying that you don't wear any. That often, at least. And pink isn't really your color, you know, with the hair. You look like a lollipop. I mean—you're just looking—" he stopped himself, raking his fingers through his hair. "The dress is nice," he lied finally. Lily cracked a smile.

"Flustered?" she teased.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Not in the least."

"Good," she retorted.

"Good," he said right back.

They stood like that awkwardly for a moment, Lily in her Godric-awful dress, and James fingering his bag, before they both—silently—agreed that the conversation was far too cheery for the two of them. Particularly, Lily thought, since the boy in front of her had purposefully blown up her favorite cauldron just last week.

"Uh, so I'll see you," James said finally, turning around to run back to his dorm before he could further damage the conversation. Lily nodded absently, running her fingers over the silky-smooth dress. He was nearly at the stairs when he heard her blurt, "The dress isn't nice."

"Sorry?" he asked, turning around. Of _course_ the dress wasn't nice. It was nearly three sizes too big for the small redhead, and she kept pushing the straps up her shoulders. It trailed on the ground too much and bulged in the chest and had shoulder pads the size of his owl and had terrible, terrible lace around the entire backside. The dress was the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

"You said the dress was nice," she said, looking down at it. She bit her lip as if wondering if she should keep talking. "But you lied. The dress is awful."

"Of course it is," James scoffed. "But I'm not going to _tell_ you that."

"You said it clashed horribly with my hair," she pointed out.

"That was an accident."

"Look," she said, smoothing down the dress yet again and stepping closer to him. Except her step ended up looking more like a trip as her ankle twisted, and she landed face-first on the ground in front of him.

James laughed.

"Ow," she muttered, pushing herself up and assessing her elbows again for damage. Her face was getting red again, making the dress look tacky and cheap. Which it probably was anyway.

"You're going to be the death of yourself, Evans," James tsked, taking a reluctant step and helping her up. They were too close—it was uncomfortable for James. He didn't fancy the way her hair tickled at his nose or how she smelled like vanilla mixed with his Great Aunt Majorica.

Although he figured the latter was because of the dress.

Moaning, she lifted the hem of her dress and showed him a pair of high heels underneath.

"You should learn to walk in those, Evans," James said, releasing her and making his way back up to the dorm stairs. He dropped a wink in her direction as he lifted his bag higher on his shoulder. "The sorry bloke that gets stuck with you won't want to be wary of your clumsiness while you're dancing with him, you know."

She bent down and slipped out of the shoes, her bare feet padding against the plush carpet. James was surprised how much shorter she got-he hadn't realized how much of a runt she was.

"_Although_," he added, grinning deviously, "they do add some height. Maybe you should keep them on so people don't mistake you for a first year."

He couldn't race up to his room fast enough, as she chucked her stiletto-like heels at his retreating figure.

* * *

"You look like you need this," Sirius muttered, dumping the remaining amount of Firewhisky into the goblet James was holding. It wasn't much, but James drained it anyway, placing the empty glass onto one of the trays the house elf was holding as it passed by.

"Rough night?" Sirius asked, raking both of his fingers through his hair as he eyed of the rest of the witches in attendance. They were all wearing sparkling dresses with high heels, foregoing the need for dress robes. Sirius, James knew, was in heaven.

"You could say that."

"Aw, cheer up, mate. You know she won't be with Cassidy forever. He can barely hold his quill the right way."

James shrugged.

"Look," Sirius said, tossing an arm around his mate's shoulder and leaning in. He pushed his arm out, gesturing towards the other girls. "Go find yourself a different date and dance as if Voldemort himself is on your heels. Snog her. Shag her—whatever, really. And forget about Evans for once."

James made an uncommitted noise.

Sirius rolled his eyes and adjusted his tie. "Fine. If you're not going to take advantage of this _glorious_ event, then I will. Look, it's Marlene—_Oi! McKinnon!_"

James watched wearily as he swaggered over to the girl with the blonde hair. They chattered for a moment before ducking away to the dance floor. Sirius didn't dance, James knew. _This_ would be interesting.

But mostly a mistake.

As he watched his friends start to rave to the beat, his eyes landed on Lily and Thomas Cassidy. Again. Merlin, he just couldn't catch a break. Every time he accidentally caught sight of the two of them, they were barely two millimeters apart, and his hands—Cassidy's _bleeding_ hands were all over Lily.

James blamed her dress.

It was absolutely gorgeous, clinging to her body and accenting parts of her he hadn't even dreamed to notice. The color—a lavender—was bloody brilliant, too. The song intensified slightly, and Cassidy was getting bolder, moving his hands to cup Lily's—

James stood up and made his way over to the two of them, jaw clenched.

"Potter!" Cassidy cried once he saw James, jerking away from Lily casually. He looked positively delighted. James wanted to sucker punch the guy's nose. "Nice party!"

"Thanks," James called over the increasing volume. He turned to Lily and gestured toward her boyfriend. "Mind if I cut in?"

Lily nodded, offering a smile to Cassidy. "It'll just be a moment. D'you want to get us some drinks? I'm positively _famished_."

Thomas Cassidy obliged. Of course he did. Anybody would, considering how Lily looked. They'd be crazy not to.

Plus, James knew that Lily's wand was probably just within her reach. If necessary, she could probably hex her boyfriend into doing whatever she wanted anyway.

James led her further into the dance room, finally settling on an area that was crowded but not too loud. Impatiently, Lily pushed her curling hair out of her face. Stray strands were stuck to her pounding pulse with sweat.

James swallowed hard.

The song changed into a slower one, and Lily snaked her arms around his neck wordlessly as he slipped his hands onto her hips. She looked up at him with those luminous green eyes. Already, his mouth felt dry. He needed water.

"Everybody looks like they're having fun," Lily observed pleasantly. James opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. "Everybody but _you_, that is. Don't think I see you sulking by the drinks."

She was looking at him like she wanted a response. So, like Thomas Cassidy before him, James obliged. "Er, yeah," James said, his throat sticking slightly. "Just, you know, making sure everybody else is having fun. Unfortunately, that gives _me_ little time to actually enjoy myself. Downfall of being host, I'm afraid. But it's a price I'm willing to pay."

Lily grinned as he twirled her. "You're a downright liar, James Potter."

James resisted the urge to shake her. _D'you want me to tell you the truth? _he wanted to shout. _I think I'm in love with you, and all you can do is dance with Cassidy. I think I'm in love with you, Evans, and you won't even give me the time of day_.

But he didn't. He just flicked a smile at her and whispered, "It's a secret, I'm afraid," and pulled her closer to him, desperately afraid she'll be able to feel his beating heart or sweaty palms.

"D'you remember the last time I wore a dress in front of you?" Lily breathed. It's quiet, and James was afraid he misheard her. But, no, she was looking at him expectantly and blushing slightly.

"Of course," he said immediately, slightly offended she thought he wouldn't. "Third year. You were wearing a dress with trousers underneath. And high heels that nearly impaled me once you threw them at me."

"You were being annoying."

He shrugged. "It happens. You love it."

"Do not," she grinned.

"It doesn't matter anyway," James said, fingering the slit at the back of her dress. He was touching the bare skin at her back, now. She had goosebumps. He was feeling victorious.

"And why's that?" she whispered.

James dipped her in the middle of the ballroom, watching her as her face broke out into one of the widest smiled he had ever seen. Keeping her close, he leaned in to whisper, "Because the dress you're wearing now is my new favorite."

She blushed. He reached up to skim his fingers along her cheek where the blush was brightest. "Some things, Evans," he said in the ridiculously deep tone again, surprised his fingers weren't betraying him by shaking, "never change."

The song ended and he leaned down to brush his lips along to back of her hand. She looked at him as if he were insane. And maybe he was. But he got to dance with the prettiest girl in the room, and that was all that mattered at the moment. Not Voldemort. Not upcoming exams. Not Sirius and Marlene shagging just a couple of rooms away, he was sure. Nothing mattered except Lily pressed against him, her fingers playing with the edges of his hair, and the feel of her breath panting on his neck.

It was perfect.

An elbow jabbed him in the side obnoxiously. James didn't even have to turn to know that Cassidy was standing there. "Drinks?" he shouted over the roaring music.

James took the cup from Cassidy's hand. He thumped the boy on his shoulder, feeling slightly bare without Lily by his side. "Good man, Cassidy."

And then he disappeared into the crowd, certain that Lily was watching him go.

* * *

"It's a little ridiculous," Lily said, making a face at the dress that was hanging in the closet. It was long and blue and horrid.

Marlene only laughed.

"You're a witch, Lils," she grinned from her position on Lily's bed, inspecting a Muggle magazine with extreme interest. "A witch that can do whatever she wants, too, since she is now over the age of seventeen, and when a witch turns seventeen—"

"Your point has been made, Mar," Lily giggled, falling back on her bed next to her friend. "It's just that Petunia'll blow a gasket if I show up in anything other than what she wanted."

"You're the Maid of Horror. Wear what you want."

"It doesn't work like that for Muggle weddings."

"Make it work like that, then." Marlene flipped the page of the magazine and cocked her head at Lily. "Oh, come on. Live a little."

"I don't know—"

"If you won't, then I will. Merlin knows we need the satisfaction of happiness around here. It's always so _cautious_ and _hesitant_ and _waiting for the other side to make the move_. I say fuck it all and just do what makes you happy. We don't have time to satisfy the needs of other people."

And, unfortunately, she was right.

"Fine," Lily grumbled, pulling out her wand. Ignoring Marlene's cheer, she began to alter the dress in its length and color and neckline, giggling with Mar as she made the color a putrid color that resembled oatmeal as a joke.

When it was finished, Lily tried it on. Marlene cried and said she'd have a word with James about getting his shit together and proposing already.

Lily smiled. She was crying, too.

James waited in the living room of the Evans house, trying desperately to fix his tie. Lily always knew the best way to tie his ties, and since she was upstairs getting dressed, he struggled by himself. At around the seventeenth go at it, James found himself wondering how he managed to make it so far in his career at Hogwarts without knowing how to tie a bleeding tie properly.

"Need any help?" an amused voice asked by his elbow. James turned around to face Lily. She was wearing a sleeveless, powder-blue dress that landed just above her knees. It was simple and elegant and lovely and perfect—just like the wearer.

Merlin, was he head over heels for this girl.

"I didn't even hear you," he grinned. "Impressive, Evans. Ever think about joining the Marauders?"

"A couple of times," she admitted, inching closer and bringing her fingers up to work on his tie. Her fingers were sure as she looped the fabric together. "But I figured I'd just be a distraction."

"Yeah, Wormtail's never seen a girl before."

Lily hit his shoulder, and he loved how she laughed, so he kissed her, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her in for a hug.

"Oi, I'm still working on your tie, you twit."

"I'm sure the tie can wait, Lils."

And so the tie waited, as he kissed his girlfriend, enjoying the warmth that she gave off, relishing the noise she made as he kissed her throat.

"This hardly seems appropriate," she said in a strangled tone. "My sister is getting _married_—"

"Everybody gets married," he argued, his voice raking against her skin like shards of glass. "Besides, you look more gorgeous than she probably looks."

Lily flushed and James continued doing the delicious things to her neck. James watched as she let her eyes flutter closed, her breathing hitching as he ran his fingers over her sides and played with her hair. She was his, she was his, she was his.

Finally.

"James," she groaned, eyelids fluttering open. He looked at her expectantly, and she looked at him, and without anybody saying anything, they were both stumbling to the couch, his suit jacket already on the ground.

"You're fast, Evans."

"I learned from the best," she teased, her lips catching his. He felt invincible as her vanilla scent radiated off of her body and mingled with his. He felt invincible as she yanked on his not-quite-finished tie, pressing his lips harder against hers. He felt invincible as he dipped his hand beneath her—

"Wedding," she gasped, rocketing away from him. Already, her hair was a mess and she had a bruise blossoming at the pulse point of her neck. He _loved_ that he could leave marks of himself over her body like that, now that they were together and he was hers and she was his.

"Sure," James agreed distractedly, wanting nothing more than to continue where they left off. "Sirius can be the ring bearer, and Peter can be the best man. I'm sure Mar would be more than willing to act as minister. That is, if you'd like it to be a Muggle occasion."

Lily's eyes got wide. "Not _ours_, you dolt!" she cried, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. James blamed the dress. Damn his girlfriend's ability to look shag-worthy in everything she wore.

"Not ours?" James clarified, trying to shake his head out. He still felt distracted by Lily. _His_ Lily.

"Not ours," she repeated. "But…" A softer light caught in her eyes, though, shining like a million stars in her green irises. She reached out for him, though, and he caught at her arms and he was holding her and she was looking at him like he always wanted to be looked at by her.

"But what?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"You want to marry me?" she asked shyly.

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "For a very intelligent girl, you are very oblivious sometimes, Evans. Of _course—_"

"You want to marry me!" she said, louder this time, a smile breaking out into her whole face. It was a gorgeous smile and a gorgeous dress and a gorgeous human being that he loved with all his heart. So, he nodded and ran his hands through his hair and grinned, "I want to marry you."

"James Potter, you want to _marry_ me." Lily giggled, her eyes shining like stars. She shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere, her hand gripping his.

"I want to marry you," he repeated, his own smile overtaking his own face because his own girlfriend's happiness was just so damn contagious.

This, however, didn't seem to be enough for his girlfriend, so she got to her feet and stood on her sofa and pulled him up with her, beginning to jump up and down, giggling like a mad banshee.

"JAMES POTTER WANTS TO MARRY ME!"

"I'm mad," James said, shaking his head, but nonetheless joining in on the jumping. "I'm mad for wanting to marry you."

"_James Potter_ wants to marry _Lily Evans_!"

"It'd be Lily Potter, mind you," James said with a mad laugh of his own.

Lily stopped jumping.

"Lily Potter."

James's stomach swirled and he felt like the happiest man alive. The girl he loved more than anything was standing in front of him, not laughing at his outlandish proposal for him wanting to marry her. The girl he loved was repeating _his_ last name and using it as her own. Lily Potter. Lily Potter. Lily Potter.

"Say it again," he told her.

"Lily Potter."

Merlin, he loved the way the words formed on her lips.

"Again," he pleaded, inching closer.

"Lily Potter."

His lips were at her ear, arms encircling her waist. He felt her sigh against him, felt her heartbeat against his chest. He felt confident. Loved. He wanted her to be his now—now—_now. _

"One more time," he growled.

"Lily Potter," she breathed.

And then he kissed her harshly and they sank to the sofa and he was murmuring those two words—the only words that really mattered right now, anyway, "Lily Potter," over and over again over her skin—from her forehead to her collarbones to her wrists to the back of her thighs.

And she, the future Lily Potter with the baby blue dress, could only whimper softly, "I do."

* * *

**I love hearing your reviews, so please please PLEASE write one. Or a bajillion.**

**:)**


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